


Light a Candle

by adiwriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Christmas fluff of the fluffiest varieties, Found Family, Gen, M/M, the tiniest sprinkle of Malex reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiwriting/pseuds/adiwriting
Summary: When Michael’s generator goes out, the Ortechos take him in for Christmas.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 49
Kudos: 136





	Light a Candle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haloud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/gifts).



> Continuing my Christmas gift fics, I have one for the lovely Hal - who I could not survive this fandom without. She's always willing to spread salt with me, support me endlessly, slay me with Marco feels, and send soft headcanons before bed. Because she wanted Liz+Michael plus Gen fic, I provide you all with the most sentimental, self indulgent fic filled with nothing but people loving on Michael. Enjoy!

Michael curses at the generator, annoyed that it chose today of all days to go out on him. It’s not that he can’t fix it, he can fix anything. It’s just that it’s the coldest day of the year and it is going to take him hours to fix this. Even with the way his body runs warmer than the average human, he’s going to be cold. And he fucking hates being cold. 

“Maybe Santa will get you a new one,” Sanders calls out to him with a laugh and Michael rolls his eyes unamused. 

“Maybe if you hadn’t sold me a piece of shit generator, it wouldn’t go out all the time?” 

“Boy, don’t start with me,” Sanders says. “I tried to sell you a better one but you didn’t want to pay for it.”

Michael scoffs. “Cause you were ripping me off.” 

“Bet it doesn’t feel like a rip off now that you’re out here freezing your ass off does it?” Sanders smirks at him and Michael grumbles. 

“Just get back to work, old man. Leave me alone,” he says. 

Sanders laughs easily at that, but doesn’t walk away. Instead he takes a seat at one of the chairs around the fire and watches Michael continue to mess with the generator. 

“I bet your soldier boy would take you in for the night,” he offers. 

Michael looks at him in surprise. He didn’t know that Sanders knew about Alex. 

“Boy, I’m blind, not stupid,” Sanders says with a laugh. “You think I never noticed you two sneaking around in high school? Or him sneaking out of your trailer over the years?” 

Michael and Alex must be the world’s worst kept secret considering all of the people in his life that knew about the two of them without needing to be told. What was the point of all of that secrecy if everyone knew anyways? Michael is annoyed that nobody ever brought it up to him. He could have used somebody to talk to about it when Alex was deployed. Now, there’s no point. The pain of Alex’s enlistment has long since past and Alex has moved on. He’s outgrown him. 

And Michael is fine. 

He’s good. 

It doesn’t bother him at all. 

“It wouldn’t matter. He’s got a boyfriend now,” Michael says. 

“That why he keep coming over with car problems?” Sanders says with a laugh. “There’s no way a kid of Jesse Manes can’t take care of his own maintenance. He’s here for you.” 

Michael ducks his head and scratches the back of his head, feeling awkward. It’s not that he hasn’t had the same thought himself a time or two, but it has never done him any good to try and read into Alex’s actions. They rarely mean what he thinks they mean and every time he gets his hopes up, he ends up with a shattered heart. 

“Alright. So he’s got a boyfriend,” Sanders says, dropping the subject of Alex thankfully. “You’ve still got plenty of people that would take you in for the holiday. Worry about fixing the generator after Christmas.”

“I’m not bothering any of them with this. They are all with their families,” he says. 

“And you aren’t their family?” Sanders asks. 

Michael doesn’t respond. Sanders knows damn well how it is. Max and Isobel might be his siblings, but he is not one of the Evans. Ann Evans could care less about him. She hardly would want him at their house for the holidays and Sanders knows it. There is a reason Michael spent so many Christmas Eves on Sanders’ couch with his dog. 

“Alright, I get it. Nobody wants the junkyard kid at their fancy dinner parties. Been there,” Sanders says. “I was gonna close up shop early and go grab something to eat in town. Didn’t grab groceries before the store closed. I guess you could come if you wanted to.” 

“Do I want to spend Christmas Eve with you?” Michael asks, trying hard not to laugh at the awkward invitation. Sanders has always been gruff. It used to read as harsh and reluctant, but ever since Michael learned the truth about who Sanders really is, he sees through it all. 

“Don’t make a big deal about it. This ain’t for you. It’s for Ms. Nora,” Sanders says and Michael just laughs. 

“Of course not,” he says. “But sure, I’ll join you. Don’t have anything better to do.” 

“That’s the Christmas spirit.” 

****

Roswell is a fairly conservative, Christian town. Between the racist white nationalists who believe that their campaign of hate is somehow doing “god’s work” and the predominantly Catholic Mexican population, Christmas is a big deal in Roswell. Meaning, no place stays open past 4pm on Christmas Eve. 

No place except for the Crashdown. Arturo is committed to celebrating Christmas by making sure that everyone has a hot meal in their stomach no matter their circumstance. He puts on a Christmas buffet that operates on donations only. Pay what you can, he always says. And for several years when all Michael had to his name was his Chevy and a few spare coins he happened to find on the sidewalk on the way into the diner, that Christmas buffet was a godsend. 

Michael and Sanders step into the diner, unsurprised to see only a handful of tables occupied. Most of the town are likely at Christmas Eve service right about now, otherwise they are at home with their families celebrating together. 

“¡Hola Miguel, Sanders! Come on inside, get yourselves a plate,” Arturo welcomes them with a warm smile. His normal antenna has been traded out for a Santa hat with what look like alien ears coming out of the sides. Michael doesn’t bother putting his coat down first at a table, he goes right for the buffet and starts fixing himself a plate, Sanders hot on his heels. 

“Merry Christmas Mikey!” Liz comes up to hug him from behind and he nearly drops his plate. Once she lets him go, he turns around to look at her. She’s wearing jeans and a nice red sweater with a pair of antennae on her head, as if she wasn’t planning on working tonight. 

“Weren’t you supposed to be at the Evans’ Christmas dinner?” he asks, walking back towards an empty table and taking a seat. Liz stands beside him, leaning her weight against his chair, eyes ever roaming the restaurant, making sure nobody needs her assistance. 

“I, uh, left early,” she says, eyes going to the floor. “Wanted to help my dad.” 

It’s an obvious lie and Michael’s pretty sure he knows why. 

‘What did Ann do?” 

“Nothing. Why do you think she did anything?” Liz asks awkwardly as Sanders comes to sit down at the table. 

Michael just looks at her. He’s known the Evans family since he was a kid. Dave is relatively laid back and accepting. Most of Isobel and Max’s more liberal ideas come from him. He’s a kind man who spends most of his time giving back to the community in some form or fashion. Michael’s only complaint about the guy is that he was always inviting him to go to church with them growing up. And after the religious freaks, the last place Michael will ever go again is a church. 

Ann Evans is the issue. Ann has very specific ideas about how things should be and she doesn’t like things to stray from that picture perfect image. Michael still blames her for a lot of Isobel’s anxieties and the way she rushed into her marriage to Noah because it fit some carefully curated version of what her life was supposed to be before she ever had the chance to discover who she was as a person. 

“She made a comment about immigration and needing to protect the border,” Liz says with a shrug like it’s not a big deal. 

Michael and Sanders both wince. 

“Where’s Max?” Michael asks, looking around the diner for his brother, surprised he hasn’t said hello by now. 

It takes him a minute to realize that Max isn’t here and Liz isn’t saying anything. 

“No shit,” Michael says, eyes widening in surprise. “He stayed there?” 

“It’s fine,” Liz says, brushing off his concern though Michael can see it’s not. 

Sanders snorts. “The world could be ending and a woman would still say ‘it’s fine.’” 

Liz ignores Sanders' comment, which is probably for the best. As amusing at it would be to watch Liz give Sanders a feminist rant that wouldn’t phase him in the slightest, it’s Christmas and he’d rather Liz not get worked up. She deserves to have a happy day. And while Ann Evans has likely already ruined that, they don’t need to contribute to her angst. 

“I’m sorry, that sucks,” Michael says. 

“He offered to come with me, but I told him to stay,” she says. “I think it’s better this way. We both needed some time alone with our families.” 

Michael agrees like he believes her, because he’s pretty sure that’s what she needs right now. He’s saved from having to find any actual words of wisdom by a table waving her over. 

When Michael looks back over at Sanders, he’s smiling at him knowingly. 

“What?” he asks, annoyed because he already knows whatever Sanders is about to say is going to piss him off. 

“For a kid that claims to have no family, you seem to be doing alright, kid,” Sanders says, glancing back at Liz. 

“Who, Ortecho?” Michael asks. “She’s dating Max. I’m just being nice.” 

“Since when are you ever nice?” 

“I can be nice,” he argues. 

“Nice is a great way to get taken advantage of,” Sanders tells him. 

Michael doesn’t respond, and the two of them eat the rest of their meal in a comfortable silence, which is how both of them prefer it. Liz brings them over an Irish Coffee and tells them that they didn’t get it from her and not to advertise it. The Crashdown doesn’t technically have a liquor license but it’s Christmas and Liz is in the giving spirit. 

“If Max doesn’t want her, you should take her,” Sanders says after taking a sip of his coffee and smiling. Michael doesn’t have to take a sip to know it’s exceptionally strong. He can smell it. 

“Liz? Gross,” Michael says, shaking his head at the thought of Liz and him together. “Also, this isn’t the 1800s, Grandpa. You can’t just claim women like property.” 

“She’s easy on the eyes,” Sanders says, looking back at Liz as she walks into the kitchen. 

“Please stop.” 

“And she makes a hell of a drink,” he says, raising his mug up as evidence. 

“No,” Michael says firmly. 

He has no interest in Liz Ortecho like that. Never has. Not even before he knew that Max was head over heels in love with her. She’s always been the annoyingly competitive nerd in his class who fought with him over valedictorian. Only reason she won that battle was because they ended up with the same GPA and credits, and they’d had to resort to attendance logs. Liz’s perfect record won out over his spotty attendance. Not that he’s bitter or anything. He gave up his scholarship anyway, what was he going to do with valedictorian? 

“Why, cause she’s a girl? I thought you were into both? Weren’t you trying to date Mimi DeLuca’s girl?” Sanders asks. 

“Trying to date?” Michael asks with a laugh. “We were together for 6 months.” 

“Really?” Sanders gives him a confused look. 

“You’re telling me you noticed Alex sneaking out of my airstream for years and you didn’t notice Maria coming and going regularly in broad daylight?” Michael asks, amused. 

Sanders waves him off. “What happened to her? I liked her.” 

“She broke up with me,” Michael says, ignoring the twinge of hurt it sends to his heart. It happened months ago and he’s over it. 

“Ah, well. Who needs her anyways?” Sanders says before standing up to go get himself another plate. 

Sanders stops Liz on his way to the buffet, he assumes to ask for another drink. He turns away from the two of them talking when his phone goes off with a text from Isobel. 

> _ Isobel 8:45pm: Dinner’s over. My parents will be going to bed in an hour or so. Why don’t you come over after?  _
> 
> _ Michael 8:46pm: I’m fine. Enjoy your Christmas.  _

“So why aren’t  _ you _ at the Evans?” Liz asks, taking Sander’s seat. “Isobel said she invited you?” 

“She invited me, but none of them really want me there,” he explains with a shrug. 

Liz gives him a look. “That’s not true. Max and Isobel love you. They think of you as their brother.” 

“They love me, but Ann doesn’t,” Michael says. Liz doesn’t get it. “What did you do when Ann made that comment about the border?” 

Liz shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t say anything,” she says, eyes trained on her fingers that are fidgeting with her rings. “I didn’t want to make a bad impression, but then I just couldn’t sit there anymore so I left.” 

“I would have,” he says. 

She glares up at him, assuming he’s attacking her rather than just making his point. “They are Max’s parents. And they already hate me because they think I’m the reason their son ran off for months,” she says, defensively. 

“Yes,” he agrees. “You sat there politely to make a good impression. I would not have. I never do. And I always start a fight and it makes Isobel and Max nervous. Like somehow their parents will stop loving them because of something I said. It’s just… They invite me over every year, but trust me, they don’t want me there.” 

Liz nods, understanding. She reaches over to place her hand over his. He about pulls it away out of habit, but doesn’t. It feels good. 

“I should have said something.” 

Michael shakes his head. “It’s not your job to teach people how to treat you and your family like human beings.”

“I just let her say that stuff and didn’t correct her,” Liz says. “Anyone else, I would have said something to.” 

“So you’ll say something next time,” Michael says with a shrug. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like there’s anything Liz could say to change Ann Evans mind about the world. 

Liz sits back in the chair with a sigh. Her eyes roam the restaurant to make sure that she’s not needed, but everyone seems content. Even Sanders has found himself a new seat at the counter and is talking to Arturo about something. 

“You know, if you aren’t going to go to the Evans for Christmas, there’s somebody else that’s alone who would like your company,” she says, leaning in again, resting her elbows on the table, and smiling at him conspiratorially. 

Whatever she’s got in mind, Michael knows he’s not going to like it. 

“Maria doesn’t want my company,” he argues. They’ve been doing their best to be friends again, but it’s been awkward. Michael is confident they’ll get there eventually, once he can be around her and not feel like a complete failure, but right now he cannot imagine she wants to see him. Not for Christmas. 

“ _ Maria _ is with her mom. I was talking about Alex,” she says. 

Michael scoffs. “Well Alex  _ definitely _ doesn’t want my company.” 

“That’s not true,” she says sternly, but he doesn’t budge. She sighs. “Fine. Well you have to go somewhere tonight because you can’t go home with a broken generator. It’s too cold.” 

Michael turns to glare at Sanders, the dirty little snitch. 

“Stay here,” she offers and if ever something felt like a pity offer, this would be it. 

“I’m not staying here,” he argues. “I’m fine. I used to live in my truck. My airstream at least has four walls and a ceiling.” 

“If you don’t take my offer, I’m going to tell my dad,” she says. 

Michael snorts. Is that supposed to be a threat? 

“You think I’m scared of your dad?” 

“No, I think that you’ve never been guilted by a Mexican father before,” she says. “It’ll be easier to agree now.” 

He considers her words. He honestly isn’t scared of Arturo. He endures Isobel’s constant guilt trips and manages to still say no, so he cannot imagine he would wilt under Arturo’s gaze. However, he doesn’t love the idea of spending a night in the airstream without heat, if he’s being honest. Least of all on Christmas Eve. 

“Fine, whatever,” he grumbles. “But we aren’t braiding each other’s hair and painting each other’s nails.” 

Liz smiles at him brightly and he won’t admit it, but it’s nice to know he’s still capable of making somebody smile these days, even if it isn’t the person he’d most like it to be. 

“Well, I rescind the offer,” she teases. “I only agreed for the hair braiding.” 

****

Michael sits at the kitchen table in the Ortecho’s home, watching everyone as they each carefully ice the cookies in front of them — Rosa with a bit more talent than Liz or Arturo. He’s never decorated cookies before. Not a single one of the homes he got tossed around from growing up ever did this with him. Not a single after school program, not one home ec class, nothing. And his airstream doesn’t have an oven so he’s never attempted to bake anything in his life. 

There is Christmas music playing in the background and Michael knows enough Spanish to understand most of the lyrics that talk about family, love, and joy. The room smells like gingerbread, sugar cookies, and pine needles. The glow of the twinkling Christmas lights makes everything softer. There’s laughter in the air as the girls tease Arturo for his rather plain Christmas tree cookie. It all feels foreign, but not in an unreachable, distant kind of way. In the way that has his heart swelling and his body growing warm and full. 

It’s home. And it’s everything he’s dreamed for his own future but has only ever felt safe voicing to one person… for all the good that did him. But still, despite all the heartbreak and eternal loneliness, this is what Michael wants for his life. Family. Comfort. Love. Home. 

“Come on, Mikey, aren’t you going to participate?” Liz asks, gesturing to his plate of undecorated cookies. 

“I, uh…” he doesn’t know how to say that he’s never done this before. That he doesn’t know how. Never had a real Christmas with a real family and he’s feeling overwhelmed by it all. “I’ve never decorated cookies before.” 

“Never?” Rosa looks at him like he’s grown a second head but Arturo’s look is one of understanding. 

“I’d never had a Christmas cookie until I came to America when I was 20 years old. Never had a tree either,” Arturo explains. “Growing up, we didn’t have much of anything. I always wanted one of those Christmases that you see in the movies, you know?” 

Michael nods. He does know. He’s always dreamed about one of those himself. A big tree full of shared ornaments and memories, cheesy matching pajamas, and endless smiles. 

“When the girls were born, I was determined to give them a Whoville Christmas,” he says. 

Rosa snorts. “Does that make me Cindy Lou Who?” 

“One of my old homes in Santa Fe didn’t have much, but they had a VHS of The Santa Clause. I used to watch it and dream my dad was Santa Claus and would come get me on Christmas Eve,” he says, unsure where it comes from and instantly embarrassed for admitting it aloud. 

Thankfully, none of the Oretchos tease him about it. 

“If you weren’t watching Christmas Vacation then you have no taste,’ Rosa teases instead. 

She scoots her chair closer to Michael’s and picks up one of her blank cookies, gesturing for him to do the same. She then proceeds to show him how to properly ice a cookie while Liz talks about her obsession with Miracle on 34th Street. 

“I’ve never seen it,” Michael says. 

“Trust me, you’re not missing much,” Rosa informs him and Liz responds by throwing candy at her. Rosa responds in kind until Arturo tells them to stop. But he doesn’t yell it like most of Michael’s foster dads always did. He does so fondly. Like he doesn’t really mind the mess, but knows he’s supposed to. 

“Do you have any Christmas traditions?” Liz asks him. 

“None that are worth passing on.”

He doubts anyone wants to hear about how his childhood Christmases usually involved one or both of his foster parents getting loaded and him hiding in his room, hoping they’d forgotten he existed. 

“Really?” Rosa asks in disbelief and Arturo gives her a warning look, which has her rolling her eyes. 

“I mean, I guess there’s one thing that I always do, but it’s kind of embarrassing.” 

“What is it?” Rosa asks, sitting on the edge of her seat with a grin, like she’s more than ready to have something to tease him about. 

Michael doesn’t respond right away. He’s never shared this with anyone. Never had anyone to share it with. Even when he’s had somewhere to go on Christmas Eve, he’s always spent the night alone and was able to do this without anyone asking him questions. 

“Tell us,” Liz urges him with a kind smile. “I’m sure it’s not that embarrassing.” 

He takes a deep breath. “Well, I didn’t take much from the families I stayed with over the years. Especially not the crazy religious freaks. But, there was one thing they used to do every year that I kind of liked and have kept up…” 

“And that is?” Liz presses. 

“Um, well,” he pauses, scratching the back of his neck and shifting in his seat. “Every year I light a candle for the people I care about and ask for them to have a good year.” 

The look Liz gives him is incredibly soft and it has Michael ducking his head. 

“That’s not embarrassing,” she tells him. 

“Yeah,” Rosa says with an annoyed sigh. “I was hoping for something like a pair of footie pajamas and waiting up for Santa.” 

“Santa doesn’t care about kids like me,” Michael informs her. 

“I think that’s a beautiful tradition, Miguel,” Arturo says before Rosa can interject further. 

“I’ve got some candles in my bedroom we can use,” Liz says, standing up. “Why don’t you come help me pick out some good ones?” 

Michael stands up and heads into the bedroom. Liz reaches under her bed and pulls out a rubbermaid bin and sets it on the bed. Inside are more candles than any one human could possibly need. 

“You practicing witchcraft in here?” Michael teases. 

“Why are you worried?” Liz asks, laughing. 

Michael grabs the first two that he sees. One for Max and Isobel respectively. Growing up, he’s only ever lit 2 candles: for the siblings he’d lost and could barely remember. He grabs another one for Sanders, because the old man is a pain in his ass, but also the closest thing to a parent that Michael has. 

“Is that it?” Liz asks. There’s no judgement in her voice, just curiosity. 

And yeah, he should probably grab one for Alex and another for Maria. Just because they don’t want him anymore, doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about them and want them to be happy. He shifts the candles in his arms so that he can also grab one for Liz. He’ll never admit it, but he cares about her and she’s quickly become one of his best friends. 

“You good?” 

Michael does an inventory of all of the people in his life that he cares enough about to wish well this year. He grabs four more: Mimi, Arturo, Rosa, and Valenti. 

“That’s a lot of candles for somebody who claims not to have any family,” Liz comments with a knowing smile. 

He looks down at his overflowing arms and wonders for a moment just when he went from lighting 2 candles for essential strangers he could only open to one day be reunited with, to  _ this _ ? 

His vision goes blurry for a second as his eyes fill with tears. He has to look away before Liz notices. 

“Do you want to do it out there or in here?” she asks. If she’s seen how emotional this is making him, she has enough tact not to mention it. 

“Here is fine,” he says, not wanting to make a big deal of this by bringing it out into the family room for everyone to see. 

“Should I leave you alone or do you mind if I join you?” she asks tentatively. 

He thinks about it for a moment or two. He’s always done this alone, even when he was grown. He wonders how different it would feel to have somebody at his side while he does it. It’s not, perhaps, the worst idea. And Liz is pretty chill. 

“I guess, if you wanted to,” he says, gesturing to her box of candles for her to take some for herself. 

“Of course,” she says, attempting to hide a smile and failing. “It sounds like a lovely tradition.” 

“Why  _ do _ you have so many candles?” he asks, to try and lighten the mood and get onto a topic that’s less likely to make him emotional. He just wants her to stop looking at him like he’s some kind of adorable baby animal. “Please don’t tell me it’s a sex thing.” 

“I just like them,” she says. ”They make me feel safe and relaxed. I don’t know. It’s stupid…”

Michael shakes his head. “It’s not.” 

It makes sense biologically.

“That’s an evolutionary response,” he explains. “For years humans depended on fire for food and safety. You huddled around flames for warmth, so there’s a social experience to it that makes you feel at home when you look at an open flame.” 

“What about you?” she asks. “Do you have that same evolutionary response to fire?” 

“Not really,” he says. “I’m guessing we didn’t have fire on our planet. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the warmth of sitting around a campfire at night. Just not genetically programmed to have an emotional response to it.” 

Liz takes a handful of candles for herself and takes a seat on the floor, setting them up in front of her. Michael sits down beside her and does the same. Liz hands him a lighter and he picks up the first candle. 

He starts with the easiest first. The candles he’s been lighting his entire life. 

_ Please help Isobel find herself this year. Let her find somebody who makes her smile light up and brings her guard down, and allows her to truly be comfortable in her own skin.  _

He lights the candle and sets it down, picking up the next. 

_ Please help Max find peace with his past. Help him find the answers he needs to feel settled. Let the two of us find a middle ground and be real brothers again.  _

He lights the candle, watching the flame flicker for a moment or two, deciding if it’s going to stay lit. Once he’s confident that it will, he sets the candle down and moves onto the rest, making quick work of several. 

_ Look after Sanders. Keep him healthy and well. Let that cough he’s developing be allergies like he insists and give me another year. Give us time together. I only just learned who he really is to me.  _

_ Let Valenti be happy or something. He wasn’t the biggest jerk in the world and I guess he did help save Max. He’s been a drag since that hospital chick left. Help him find somebody outside of this craziness we brought into his life. _

_ Bring Arturo citizenship this year. Let him stop worrying about deportation. Let the racists in this town leave him alone and let his business thrive. He does everything for everyone else… Let the world do things for him.  _

_ Please, please, please help Mimi. Maria cannot lose her and I cannot watch Maria lose her.  _

When Michael sets Mimi’s candle down, he glances over at Liz. She’s got her eyes closed as she holds a lit candle. And it’s kind of nice, he realizes. Sharing this moment with somebody. It feels less sad, making wishes for everyone else while he sits at home alone. It’s more hopeful. She peeks one eye open to look at him and he quickly ducks his head and picks up the next candle. 

_ Let Liz find a purpose again. Help her keep her drive without feeling the constant need to be good enough. Help her open her heart to love and keep it open, not close herself off when things get hard. Let her be happy, she deserves that.  _

He lights the candle and this one, he actually sets up on her bed stand, so that when they eventually have to blow these out, hers can keep flaming on, maybe it will help some of those wishes of good fortune really sink in. 

He pauses. There are three candles left and none of them are easy because they are all wrapped up in a lot of emotions for him — both good and bad. 

He takes a deep breath and picks up the first one, the one he feels like he has absolutely no right to light, but perhaps the greatest responsibility to. 

_ Help Rosa stay clean this year. Help her learn to control the powers she never asked for. Allow her to have the life back that we stole from her. Give her time with her family. Give her love. Give her happiness. Help her enjoy the life she has and allow her to not just survive, but thrive.  _

He lights the candle without asking for what he wants most. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for forgiveness for the part he played in her death. This candle is about what he wants for her, not what he wants for himself. 

He looks down at the last two candles left. If he takes his own feelings out of it — his own wants and desires — he can easily come up with wishes for the two people he cares about the most. After all, all he’s ever wanted for them is happiness. 

_ Keep Maria safe. Protect her as she explores her powers. Don’t let them pick away at the things that make her Maria. Help her find somebody who is good for her. Help her feel loved and whole. Help her stop struggling so much so that she can actually rest. Keep her safe and let her thrive.  _

He lights the candle and watches the flame for a solid minute. He can feel Liz’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t squirm under her gaze. Her presence is reassuring. He glances over, and she’s got one candle left unlit, but is leaning back on her hands, looking like she’s in no rush to light the last one. 

He turns back and picks up his last candle. Saved the best for last, or something like that. 

He closes his eyes and holds the candle close to his chest, thinking about all of the things that he wants for Alex. 

_ Let Alex be happy. Allow him the inner peace he’s never had before. Grant him a good year, filled with joy and laughter. Help him get away from all the bullshit his father brought into his life. Let him love without fear. Let him be loved without any guards. Even if that love is not mine... Keep him safe. Protect him. Love him. Give him a good life. The best life.  _

Michael waits an extra moment or two, putting as many positive thoughts and feelings of love as he can out there before he lights the candle. Once he’s done, he looks down at the row of mismatched candles and smiles. Somehow they all go together. All beautiful. Liz is right, there’s a certain feeling of safety in their glow. 

A hand settles against his back and when he looks back at Liz, she’s smiling at him. 

“Can I do this last one out loud?” she asks. 

Michael shrugs. He doesn’t care. 

Liz sits up and crosses her legs, shifting so that she’s facing him. 

“I hope this year that my friend comes to understand how loved he is,” she says, her eyes not leaving his. “That he learns that he can ask for help without feeling like he has to return the favor. That he knows his family will always support him and have his back. That he understands, with how much he gives and gives, that it’s okay to take sometimes too. And most of all, I hope that he’s happy.” 

As she flicks the lighter to light the candle, she whispers loud enough for him to hear, “This is for Michael.” 

He feels like his heart slams into his ribs then stops beating altogether. He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. 

There’s a knock on the front door and Liz glances at the door before looking back. She leans over and kisses Michael’s cheek before standing up. 

“Take all the time you need,” she tells him with a soft smile. “We’ll be ready when you are.” 

And with that she leaves the room. 

Michael turns back to look at the candle that she lit for him. The flame burns strong before it starts to blur. It takes him a minute to realize that he’s started to cry. His mind fumbles as it tries to process Liz’s words, flooded with emotions. He hadn’t expected her to light a candle for him, much less tell him what she was lighting it for. 

He turns back to his own candles, watches the flames dance, each one representing somebody in his life that he cares about immensely. He tells himself that these people care about him just as deeply, but that knowledge doesn’t feel like it fits. It moves over his body and there’s a warm tingle, but that feeling is odd. It’s new and unfamiliar. 

It’s easy to love. He’s never had a problem with giving his heart away. It’s difficult to be loved, he’s found. To find people that accept him and love him without condition. The idea that he might actually have those things… It’s a lot. 

He takes several deep breaths and blows the candles so that he can go back out to join the Oretchos. After all, he doesn’t want to be a bad guest after they’ve been gracious enough to open their home to him for Christmas. 

He wipes his eyes and steps out into the hall. He’s surprised to hear a crowd coming from the family room. He pauses, peeking his head into the room without stepping into it. Max and Isobel are on the sofa wearing ridiculous matching pajamas that they most certainly got from their parents. Liz is on the floor at Max’s feet, braced between his legs and leaning her head back against one of his knees. Rosa and Maria are on the floor, sharing a blanket and passing a bowl of popcorn between each other. Kyle is in the armchair with a beer, still in his scrubs, albeit Christmas ones. He can’t see into the kitchen, but he can hear Sanders’ gruff voice followed by Mimi’s softer one. 

He stands there taking in the scene, trying to figure out when all of this happened. There’s a click of a lock and before Michael can even react, he’s being hit with the bathroom door as Alex steps out.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Alex says, hand going up to check him over for injuries. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he says. “What’s all of this?” 

“Liz thought that the family should all be together on Christmas,” Alex says, tilting his head and giving him that affectionate look that’s always gotten Michael into trouble before. 

“I thought you were with Forrest tonight,” he says as his mind works at just when and how Liz set all of this up, overwhelmed by the thought of it. 

Alex shakes his head, his hands moving to the pocket of his pajama pants. They’ve got little reindeer on them. Michael has never pictured Alex as a reindeer pajama guy. He’s only ever seen Alex sleep in boxers or Air Force issue sweatpants. If pushed, he could have pictured him in traditional Old Navy flannel. This is new, but adorable. 

“I haven’t been with Forrest for several nights,” he says to the ground. “Like three weeks of nights.” 

Michael holds his breath as Alex’s feet shuffle closer. Michael isn’t even sure if he’s invading his space intentionally or if they just always gravitate towards each other like two opposite ends of a magnet. 

“Oh,” is all Michael can say. The air around them feels electrified and his heart is pounding so loud that he’s sure Alex can hear it. 

“But tonight isn’t about me,” Alex says, close enough to whisper and feel the breath of it against his cheek. Michael glances towards the family room, nobody has noticed the two of them standing nearly chest to chest in the hall. “We can talk more when you come over to my place for dinner tomorrow.” 

“Dinner?” he asks, his voice cracking like he’s some hormonal 12 year old.

Alex nods. “If that’s okay with you?” 

He nods. He feels breathless with Alex so close, but he’s trying so hard not to let his heart get away from him. He swallows down the urge to kiss him. He won’t make the first move. Not without a clear sign. 

“Merry Christmas, Michael.” He leans in and kisses his cheek. It’s the slightest brush of lips, but his entire skin feels electrified by it. 

Still, he refuses to read into this. He needs to wait for words this time. He’s been burned before. 

“I… uh… tomorrow,” he stumbles over his words awkwardly and wonders if this is how Alex feels whenever Michael invades his space. “Is that like a ‘pity Michael because he has no heat on Christmas’ situation, or—” he trails off, not even wanting to voice his real hope. 

“Or. Definitely or,” Alex says, holding back a laugh at his expense. When Michael groans, Alex takes pity on him. “It’s like a ‘I want to talk about us’ situation. If you want to? If you’re ready?” 

He’s so ready. Michael has been ready for months, he just couldn’t do anything — wouldn’t do anything — with Forrest in the picture. 

Michael cannot help himself, despite not having clear words from Alex about his intentions for their future, he rocks forward and kisses him. His hands move to cup his face like muscle memory. Like that’s the only natural place for them to be. Alex’s arms go around Michael’s waist pulling him impossibly closer as he opens his mouth to him. He tastes like peppermint, whiskey, and hope. 

Like home. 

Laughter rings out loudly from the family room, and Alex pulls away from the kiss, but his hands settle against his hips, keeping him in place. 

“Sorry,” Michael says, awkwardly. He’s always doing that. Kissing Alex when words won’t find him, willing his feelings to shine through his touch. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Alex says firmly, eyes full of a love and affection that Michael hasn’t seen in a long time. 

“No?” he asks, nervously. 

“Never,” Alex says with a wicked smile that has Michael leaning in for another quick kiss before pulling away. 

“Okay, good.” 

Alex takes a step back, so that they are no longer in kissing range, and it allows Michael to take a real breath and come back down from the clouds. 

“We can talk about it more tomorrow,” Alex promises. He grabs Michael by the shoulders and guides him gently towards the living room. “Tonight is for family.” 

“Michael, come sit!” Isobel exclaims loudly the moment she spots him. She scoots over on the couch and pats the space between Max and her. 

“We’re going to watch The Santa Clause,” Max says with a knowing look on his face. Alex moves into the room and takes the remote out of Max’s hands and begins plugging in his password for Disney Plus as he sits down at the other armchair in the room. 

“I thought if it wasn’t Christmas Vacation, we had no taste,” he says, moving to sit down and smiling to himself when Isobel instantly curls into his side and Max covers them both with a blanket. 

“Nah, we’ll watch that tomorrow once these losers are gone,” Rosa says. “I’d rather hate-watch this piece of trash.” 

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Kyle says barely lifting his head from the back of the chair. He sounds exhausted. “I used to watch it as a kid.” 

“It’s no Meet Me in St. Louis,” Maria comments. “But it’s cute.” 

Arturo comes into the room with a plate full of cookies that everyone instantly converges on. Mimi enters a moment later with a handful of mugs, Sanders behind her with even more. Once everyone is settled with their drinks and their sweets, Alex starts the movie. 

Michael nearly jumps at a hand on his shoulder. When he looks up, Sanders is standing behind the couch and looking at him with a weird smile on his face… almost like he means it. He doesn’t say anything, just looks around at the room then back at Michael, squeezing his shoulder again for good measure. Then he nods towards the door. 

Crowds aren’t his thing and Michael knows that he’d prefer to be home tonight with his dog, listening to Willie Nelson. Michael gives him a nod of thanks and vows to himself that he will stop by Sanders tomorrow morning at some point to spend time together. Once Sanders slips out the door, he settles back into the couch and Isobel burrows against him deeper. 

He bites his lips to keep from smiling like a complete idiot, as he realizes that this is better than any Christmas movie he’d watched growing up. This is perfect because it’s his. 

It’s home. 


End file.
